


Gold Sharpie Promise

by phylocalist



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Starbucks, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:56:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4752260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phylocalist/pseuds/phylocalist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Starbucks just down the street of Gerard's apartment is no strange place to him, neither is the people that work there. Apparently, though, he is a stranger to their barista, who always keeps getting his fucking name wrong.</p><p>  <i>or</i></p><p>The tale of the freelance artist that spends 99% of his time at Starbucks, the barista he hates, and how he stops hating him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold Sharpie Promise

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, i'd like to thank the [bbb mods](http://bandombigbang.dreamwidth.org/) for running this challenge and still keeping it alive, allowing me to experience it. and it was such a good experience. you all do such hard work, thank you so much.
> 
> second, i'd like to thank [sage](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reclist), my partner in crime and beta of this fic, and jae, another partner in crime and beta, for cheering me on to keep on writing even when i thought i wouldn't be able to finish it. you deserve the world.
> 
> last but not least, thank you so much to [allison](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jinjurly), my fanwork creator. the mix, inscribere, is amazing and since the first time i listened to it, i couldn't stop replaying it. i think allison really captured the essence of the fic and for that i thank her so much. if you haven't checked out the mix, please do yourself a favor and do so [here](http://8tracks.com/falterer/inscribere).

_Jared._

Gerard stops the movement of his hand and glares at the disposable coffee cup in front of him. He’s really trying to not let it affect him anymore because it’s already happened countless times, but the fact that _it’s already happened countless times_ is the reason why he’s glaring. He really can’t believe the barista keeps getting his fucking name wrong.

Okay, Gerard can accept that his name is not the easiest one to understand when said out loud nor the easiest one to write down, but he’s gone so far as to spell it to the cashier and the barista keeps getting it wrong. At this point, Gerard knows he’s not just making a simple innocent mistake; he’s doing it _on purpose_. And it pisses him off.

With the look of imminent doom, as Mikey calls it, still lingering in his eyes, he looks up and finds the barista, Frank according to his nametag, looking at him with a grin and a smug expression on his face. Gerard kind of expects Frank to look away the moment their eyes meet, but instead Frank’s grin grows even bigger and holds his gaze for a few moments before giggling and going back to whatever he was doing before.

Gerard counts to ten. _Very_ slowly. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to stop glaring at the coffee cup and keep working on the commission he has to hand in the next week. He comes to Starbucks to concentrate on his work and relax, but the last few weeks have been hell with Frank around and he isn’t even halfway done with this piece yet.

He takes another deep breath. His hand starts moving again, sketching out panels and rough positioning of speech bubbles. After a few minutes, though, he can’t help but glance at the coffee cup again and huff an exasperated breath out.

Frank’s laugh is loud and obnoxious in the nearly empty coffee shop. Gerard grits his teeth. Yeah, that barista definitely pisses him the fuck off.

*

Four days later Gerard walks into Starbucks once again. Of course, since he’s so lucky, Frank is there too. He had to take a couple days off his usual routine of coming to the coffee shop to work since Frank’s presence had been pissing him off to the point where he just _couldn’t_. It’s kind of annoying, the fact that the mere presence of him affects Gerard so much, but he can’t help it. He finished the piece he was working on, thank God, with a couple days to spare and he isn’t on any other kind of tight deadline so he can come back to Starbucks, get a coffee and just relax for a little while. Or, well, relax as much as he can with Frank around.

With a bit of a resigned sigh, he walks up to the cashier and makes his order. He makes a big deal out of telling his name correctly to the cashier, Brian, but he knows it’s to no avail; Frank will write it down wrong anyway. The only outcome of that is the funny, knowing look Brian gives him. It’s kind of worrying and embarrassing that basically everybody who works at this coffee shop knows about Frank being a little shit to Gerard. However, really he can’t do anything about it, except keep sighing and rolling his eyes.

He walks towards the other side of the counter to pick up his drink with his head hung low, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket, gearing up to the fact that he’ll have to face Frank and his smug grin sooner or later. When he hears Frank’s familiar voice calling his name -or, well, not his name but a variation of it-, he looks up with an already annoyed stare. Gerard tries really hard to not let it show, but he knows his eyes can never hide his emotions, which Frank confirms for him when he gives Gerard a crooked smile. Gerard wants to punch it off of his face.

“Gerardo!” Frank’s voice slurs the name out with a thick accent that Gerard thinks is supposed to be hispanic. He cringes. “Venti latte with a double shot of espresso?”

“Yeah,” is all Gerard says, harshly, not leaving any space for Frank to say anything else, and goes to grab the cup of coffee Frank’s offering him but stops short at the sight of the arm holding it out.

It’s not like he hadn’t realized Frank had arms, _duh_ , but he hadn’t realized that they were fucking covered in tattoos. He’s shocked to say the least, because despite having come face to face with Frank’s arms on several occasions, thanks to him always handing him his coffee, he does not remember having seen any tattoos on his arms. Actually, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t ever seen Frank’s bare arms before; prior to this, he was always wearing long sleeves or a cardigan on top of his shirt, even when it was like 90 degrees out.

His gaze snaps up to Frank’s face and he opens up his mouth to ask him about them, about who drew them and who inked them into his skin, his hand itching to trace the delicate and thick black lines that cover almost every exposed bit of skin of his arms. But his eyes meet Frank’s and even though Gerard can see genuine curiosity in them, what he mostly sees is mock and smugness, so he snaps his mouth shut and drops his gaze again, grabbing the coffee cup from Frank’s hand - which is also covered in tattoos, holy shit.

Gerard’s about to turn around when Frank’s voice startles him, making Gerard look up at him again. Frank’s looking down at his own arm, though.

“They updated the dress code.” He looks up and gives Gerard a small smile, the first one he’s seen on his face without a trace of smugness. “I don’t have to hide them anymore.”

Gerard gives him a small nod, unsure of what to do, and takes a sip of his coffee. The still-too-hot coffee burns his tongue and he tries to hide it as well as he can, but he’s sure he’s not successful at all. It’s so weird to be in this situation where Frank isn’t acting in a way that makes Gerard go off completely, pushing all of his buttons; instead he’s faced with a Frank he hadn’t known before, one whose smiles make something turn in Gerard’s stomach and whose earnest and open eyes confuse Gerard to no end. He doesn’t think he dislikes it, though, which is _weird_.

“They’re. Um. They’re really rad,” Gerard says after a few seconds when the silence stretches and he can’t take it anymore. He nods towards Frank’s arms. “Your tattoos, I mean. I like them.”

Gerard’s brain is basically blurting out whatever it can at this point and all he wants to do is shut himself up somehow, so he bites down on the lid of the coffee cup to avoid saying something else. Frank laughs, but it doesn’t sound mean or like he’s making fun of Gerard, it sounds like he’s laughing _with_ Gerard.

“Yeah, thanks. I like them too,” Frank says and looks at Gerard with a smile on his face. Gerard can’t make out what he’s thinking, but Frank’s eyes over him make him shiver slightly.

“You better. I mean, they’re on your skin forever.”

Gerard really wants to slap himself right now. He also really needs to learn how to shut the fuck up.

He doesn’t know how he fucked up his brain-to-mouth filter this bad. Maybe it’s the coffee, he hasn’t had any coffee yet. He gulps down another sip and thankfully this time it has cooled down enough to not burn his throat. He looks up through his eyelashes when he hears Frank’s earnest laugh again. Gerard’s sure the heat he feels around his face is not thanks to the coffee and just prays his blush isn’t that obvious. He still tries to hide behind his coffee cup, though. Just in case.

“Oh, I know that, alright,” Frank says and a bit of the mocking and smugness come back to his voice and his smirk. Gerard feels his annoyance coming back as well, so he turns around already checking if the table he usually takes is free, but a hand on his arm stops him dead in his tracks.

He looks back, surprised, and finds Frank’s other hand outstretched as well, holding a piece of paper on it. Gerard shifts his gaze to the pile under Frank’s hand from where he probably took the one he’s holding. He vaguely wonders how he didn’t notice them before, but Frank speaks again.

“My band is doing a show this weekend,” Frank seems to stutter a bit and it’s the first time Gerard’s seen him not full of himself and his confidence. “You should come,” he finishes with a soft smile.

Gerard turns back to face him, taking the piece of paper out of his hand. It’s a flyer, announcing a show with three local bands on Saturday night. He quickly checks his schedule in his head and he’s pretty sure he’s free and he doesn’t have any deadline to meet before the end of the week, but still. This is the barista that keeps getting his fucking name wrong even though he’s sure Frank’s learned it from all the times he’s spelled it out for him and who always annoys Gerard with his smugness and cockiness. Gerard makes shifty eyes at him, going back and forth between looking at the flyer in his hand and Frank’s face, before finally shrugging noncommittally.

“I’ll have to check if I’m free. I can’t promise I’ll go, but I’ll try to make it,” Gerard says, trying to sound cool and collected, and not like he totally knows he’s actually free and he’ll most likely show up, even if it takes him a few hours of gearing up to it. He’s really intrigued by this new Frank that he hadn’t seen before, and he’s pretty sure the Frank he’ll see onstage will be a new one he has yet to meet.

Gerard sees Frank grin though, and it’s that shit-eating grin again. He feels himself react to it instantly and _that_ makes him even more annoyed, but at himself. Why does this Frank kid have to affect him like this?

“Great! I’ll see you there.” Frank’s grin doesn’t disappear and his eyes shine with smugness again, and Gerard feels himself fuming.

“I didn’t say I would go!” Gerard wants to shout it with how angry he is, but he contains himself. Who does this _punk_ believe he is to act so entitled? Frank’s turned around already, as if the conversation has already ended, but he looks back at Gerard when he hears his voice.

Franks slowly raises an eyebrow and lets out a short laugh that makes Gerard feel as if he’s being mocked.

“ _Sure_.” the way he says it, patronizingly with another short laughter to follow it up, makes it seem as if he’s already settled it for Gerard, and it sets Gerard off so badly.

He’s a grown adult (or something resembling that); he’ll be the first one to admit that sometimes he’s not the most capable person to steer his life in the right direction, but that doesn’t mean this punk can just barge in and make decisions for him. The worst of it, though, is the fact that he _knows_ he’ll show up because it’s been too long since he’s gone to a show or just gone out to have a good time, which means Frank is right and Gerard can’t deny what he’s saying. So, incapable of saying something in his defense, Gerard turns around sharply and storms off towards his usual table. Frank’s laughter resonates behind his back and he has to force himself to not flip him off over his shoulder.

Instead, he flops down onto the couch, careful to not spill any of the coffee, putting it down on the table before grabbing his messenger bag and pulling out a comic book, his sketchbook and a mechanical pencil. He thinks he should try sketching for a while since it always calms him down, but right now he feels as though he’ll begin stabbing the sketchbook out of frustration rather than actually drawing on it, so he settles for the comic book.

Gerard opens it, but before he starts reading he can’t help sending a heated look towards Frank who is, surprisingly, looking back at him. For a moment it looks as if he hadn’t wanted to get caught staring, but it passes so quickly Gerard’s not even sure he actually saw the embarrassment hunching down Frank’s shoulders and turning his cheeks a pale shade of pink.

He’s sure he isn’t imagining the smug grin on Frank’s face, though, which sets him off again. He looks down at his comic book and forces himself to not let his eyes peel away from it until he’s calmed down.

*

Gerard’s keys rattle in his hand as he swings them from side to side absentmindedly. He pushes the door shut with his foot after he steps into his apartment and leaves the keys on the kitchen counter, rummaging through the refrigerator for something to drink. He comes up with a soda can and opens it, downing half of it in one go. He’s jittery for some reason, and when he thinks about it he realizes something with so much sugar in it was probably not the best option  he could’ve picked, but now he has the soda can open he might as well finish it.

He walks towards the living room and sits down on the couch, turning the TV on. Gerard zaps through the channels without paying that much attention to them, drinking from his soda and hoping something at least mildly entertaining will come up. He settles for a rerun of Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, and gets comfortable on the couch, ready to spend the last hours of the day drifting in and out of sleep until he can’t take it anymore and has to move onto his bed.

It’s become routine at this point; getting home, having a drink, maybe snack on something, and watch tv until his eyelids feel heavy and he’s dozing off to sleep. Sometimes he’ll stay up drawing or finishing up a commission when he’s on a tight deadline, but it’s mostly this. It’s comforting, in a way, to have something in his life be solid and constant when sometimes not even he can make sense of the mess inside his head.

Gerard generally has no trouble falling asleep at the couch, the TV serving as background noise that always seems to lull him, but tonight's an exception. He can't get his brain to turn off for one second even though he's not really thinking of anything. He's just anxious and twitchy, tossing and turning on the couch, unable to concentrate on the movie for more than five minutes.

He convinces himself to at least hold on until the movie is finished. He's pretty sure he'll calm down soon, he only has to concentrate on something else but his brain buzzing.

But, of course, the credits start to roll down the TV screen and Gerard hasn't managed to keep his eyes closed for more than a blink. Groaning, he rubs at his face with one of his hands and gets up, turning the TV off with the remote. He's already resigned himself to the sleepless night ahead of him and to welcome back his old friend insomnia.

If only he could find out what's making his stomach tie into knots, then _maybe_ he could try to work it out and fall asleep. So far he has no idea. Or maybe he does, but he's not ready to face it yet.

Instead of thinking too hard about it, Gerard makes himself change into sweats, an old shirt and get ready for bed - not that he'll actually sleep, he knows himself all too well to still hope for that, but at least he's getting in bed. He burrows under the covers and stares at the ceiling of his room for a couple minutes, until he gets tired of it and groans, frustrated, turning onto his side. It's been so long since something's affected him so bad he couldn't sleep that he can't remember what he did then, other than laying wide awake on his bed.

He takes a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes on the exhale. The image of an earnest smile and a pair of tattooed arms flash behind his eyelids and he opens them, startled.

Is he for real?

Gerard can't believe himself. How did he let that asshole get to him so bad he's laying in his bed at 2 a.m., wide awake? It feels like the hundredth in the day, but he lets out yet another groan, rolling over to lay on his stomach and bury his face on his pillow. That forces him to close his eyes though, and that way he can't avoid a couple other flashes of memories. Frank's hazel eyes, his way too perfect eyebrows arching over them, the curve of his smug grin, the dimple on his left cheek when he smiles. It's amazing that he remembers these little things considering he's spent most of his time fuming at how annoying Frank is when looking at him.

Gerard turns his head around, hugging his pillow with both arms under it, looking at the wall with tired eyes obscured by locks of his dark hair. _Why_ is he remembering these things? He's way too confused, almost getting angry at himself, when he feels his heart skip a beat at the memory of Frank's small smile and suddenly it _clicks_.

His breathing quickens. He hadn't had a crush in so long he didn't even remember how it felt. But once the thought has made its way into his head everything's clearer. The awkwardness, the weird twists of his stomach, the racing of his heart when Frank comes into view; hell, even all the teasing he's endured from Frank makes sense. That doesn't mean he has to like it, though.

"Fucking fuck."

Only Gerard would get a crush on the guy he also wants to punch the fuck out of.

*

Friday comes and goes quickly. Suddenly it's Saturday and Gerard's only got a couple of hours before he has to be at the shitty club Frank's band is playing in. He can't even remember what Frank's band name was and can't make out which one it is on the flyer. He just hopes they don't play first because he's probably gonna be late and he doesn't want to miss part of their performance.

He takes a quick shower, rummages for clean clothes around his room and finally finds a pair of jeans, a black plain shirt and his leather jacket which, thankfully, also holds an almost full pack of cigarettes in one of the pockets. He lights one up to help him calm down while he looks for his boots and laces them up.

On the way out he gives himself a quick check up on the full body mirror. He's not looking that bad if he says so himself, long black hair framing his face, bringing up the spots of color high on his cheeks, eyeliner darkening the rim of his eyes and making their hazel color pop. The jeans aren't the cleanest he's ever worn, but they're tight and make his legs look awesome. He messes with his hair a bit and opts for applying the tiniest touch of color to his lips with a red lipstick.

Gerard stubs out his cigarette on an empty coffee cup and gets on his way to the club. He decides on taking a cab since he's already running late, though that is not uncommon for him. The cigarette he had on his apartment had helped calm him down for a moment, but now he's actually on the way to the club the reality of it, the _it's actually happening, holy shit_ , dawns on him and he gets twitchy again.

He's anxious, thinking about all the ways tonight could possibly go wrong, even though there's nothing actually planned to happen. It's not a date, for fuck's sake; why does it feel like he could fuck everything up making the wrong move tonight? He needs to calm the fuck down.

He doesn't, of course, still twitchy by the time the cab parks outside the club. He pays, mumbles a thank you, and gets out of the cab worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He can hear the band playing and he wonders if he should have a cigarette outside, before realizing nobody will give a shit if he smokes it inside. So he sucks in a big breath, running a hand through his hair and gets inside.

It's packed near the stage but there's space for Gerard to move around on the back of the club and near the bar, thank God. With a quick glance, he confirms that the band currently playing isn't Frank's. He walks straight to the bar, orders a Coke and lights up a cigarette while he waits for it. The band isn't bad and Gerard even finds himself nodding and moving to the rhythm of the music after a while. He finishes up his Coke quickly, lighting up another cigarette that helps him get through the set.

When the first band leaves the stage Gerard's stomach starts tying into knots with anticipation. The second comes out to set up, though, and he never manages to catch sight of Frank so he relaxes with a disappointed sigh. He's so wrung up with nerves and anticipation, but he's also really fucking excited to see Frank onstage and to hear the kind of music his band plays. Judging by the way he looks and some of the tattoos he remembers he guesses it could be anything with a hint of punk, but Frank's surprised him before and he doesn't like to just assume things about someone.

The second set stretches on and Gerard feels like it's endless. He's torn between wanting this set to go on because the band is good and he enjoys the music and wanting the set to be over right now because Frank's band is next and he can't wait for them to go onstage. Finally, after what seems like hours but it's probably only 30 minutes, the band thanks the crowd and starts filling out. Gerard's breath quickens. This is it.

He worries the end of the straw between his teeth, starts walking towards the crowd and throws the empty soda can on a trashcan nearby. The crowd is packing closer to the stage, pushing and getting excited. Gerard thinks Frank's band must be really good and probably has a local following already, which makes him wonder why he hasn't ever heard of them, but then again he doesn't really go out nowadays. Mikey was the one who used to drag him to local shows back when he had that job at Eyeball; so, without Mikey, Gerard's night outings started growing smaller and smaller as his work took off and he started getting more and more commissions.

Gerard's skin is buzzing by the time the techs leave the stage and the band comes on. He vaguely wonders if someone is smoking pot and he's getting high off of it without noticing, he feels so dreamy all of sudden, but that feeling is abruptly shut down the moment he sees Frank walk onstage.

He's wearing baggy jeans with rips on the knees and everywhere else, a tight t-shirt and all his tattoos are on display again. His lips look shiny and impossibly attractive, the light shining off them, and Gerard wonders if that's because Frank's wearing some kind of lipgloss or lipstick, but he brushes it off as spit. Also, the sides of his mohawk are dyed red and Gerard distinctly remembers them being blonde before.

Gerard bites down on his lip. It should be illegal for someone to look that good. He has a sudden impulse of just getting up there and kissing the fuck out of Frank and it's so intense his breath hitches. What the fuck? He hasn't ever been this attracted to someone and it's fucking with him so bad. It's weird as fuck, to have all these feelings and thoughts about someone, so foreign to him, but not _bad_. He wants this, he wants _Frank_.

"Hello, New York!" Frank's voice booms through the speakers and the crowd comes alive with screams and movement. "We're Pencey Prep and we're gonna rock your pants out. Get fucking ready!"

They launch themselves into a fast song immediately and the crowd is really into it, as so is Gerard. He's moving along to the rhythm and he kind of wants to get in the pit, but he also doesn't wanna get a broken lip or an elbow to the face. He'll stay where he is, at the back of the crowd from where he can clearly appreciate Frank, for another few moments. And, man, is he appreciating Frank.

He didn't think he'd formed expectations for how Frank would be onstage, but Frank still broke all of them. He's fucking fierce up there, thrashing around like a little ball of energy when he isn't at the microphone singing, but never missing a god damned note on his guitar. His eyes are closed a lot of the time, which could mean he's either really deep in concentration or lost in the feeling of it all; Gerard's pretty sure it's the latter.

They get through 3 songs straight before stopping for a few seconds. Frank's got a huge smile on his face and his hair is already being plastered down by sweat, his bangs sticking to the side of his face.

"You're fucking amazing tonight, New York!" the crowd replies with a loud cheer. Frank's smile seems to get even bigger if that's possible.

Gerard can't peel his eyes away from him, Frank's so hypnotizing up there, so he doesn't miss at all the moment Frank bites down on his lip and something on it seems to catch the reflection of the light. His breath hitches when he realizes Frank's wearing a fucking lip ring and, after a short examination, he realizes Frank's also wearing a nose ring. He's sure Frank doesn't wear them on Starbucks, he would've noticed. The light catches on his lips again as he talks and Gerard thinks he's seeing some kind of glitter shine on them. Glitter doesn't come from spit, which was his first guess on why Frank's lips were so shiny, so now he's sure Frank's wearing some kind of lip gloss.

He represses a low whine to the back of his throat even though nobody will hear it in the noisy club. Gerard's pretty sure by now that Frank's sole purpose tonight is to _torture_ him.

His mind immediately starts racing to thoughts of kissing that lip gloss off Frank's lips, what flavor it would be, if it's sticky or not and if so, will it leave sticky traces behind Frank's kisses. The band is playing another song and he tries to concentrate on that instead, on Frank trashing around onstage and the other members having a good time; he needs to get his mind off this before he loses control over his impulses and gets onstage to make out with Frank in front of all these people.

He settles for walking towards the crowd, mixing with it, letting the energy of all those people rub off on him. He’s jumping up and down with the crowd in no time, getting lost in the music, when a couple of familiar notes start sounding through the speakers and Gerard realizes they’re playing a cover of Astro Zombies by the Misfits. His mouth breaks into a grin no matter how hard he tries to suppress it, screaming the lyrics back to Frank as he sings them, jumping up and down with the music.

The song ends too fast for Gerard, who would probably listen to them play it over and over again; he walks back to the bar, a little unsteadily, and orders another can of Coke. He opens it and downs almost half of it in one big gulp. That's probably the most workout he's had in a few months, his breath and heart are racing.

Lost in getting his heart to stop pounding and actually getting some air into his lungs, Gerard doesn't realize when Pencey Prep plays their last song until Frank's voice is booming through the speakers saying his thanks and goodbyes. He looks up in time to see Frank beaming at the crowd and turn around, walking off the stage with the other band members trailing behind him. Gerard  settles for sitting down at a stool and rest his elbows on the bar, winding down while the adrenaline starts disappearing from his bloodstream.

The crowd has already dispersed throughout the club and the stage looks weirdly out of place now, empty of band members and hungry eyed fans, the only person left up there is a DJ off the side of the stage managing the music blaring through the speakers.

Gerard finds his gaze wandering all over the place. He doesn't know what he's looking for until his eyes find Frank's small build making his way through the crowd towards him, pushing people aside with a big grin on his face. His hair is plastered down to his skull, if with sweat or water, Gerard doesn't know, and he's thrown an unzipped hoodie over his shirt. When he finally reaches Gerard he looks up at him from under his eyelashes and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards.

"You came," Frank says and there's that smugness back in his voice, screaming _I told_ _you so!_ to Gerard's face. To Gerard's surprise, it isn't as annoying this time, only inciting a half serious roll of his eyes out of him; instead, he finds himself teasing Frank back.

"Yes, I did." Gerard takes a sip out of his Coke, cocking an eyebrow at Frank. "So?"

Frank seems a bit taken aback by that, not used at all to Gerard actually playing along, a laugh being startled out of him.

"Nothing, nothing," Frank says, his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the club, and Gerard's sure it isn't _nothing_ but he doesn't press further. He takes another sip out of his Coke to give Frank some more room to talk. "So, hey." Frank looks around, seeming a bit uncomfortable out of nowhere. "You wanna go out for a smoke?"

Gerard looks over Frank's shoulder to where he's pointing with his thumb at the exit door next to the stage and shrugs. "Sure." He gulps down the rest of his Coke and hops down the barstool, following Frank outside.

Gerard's not sure this is an exit meant for the people at the club to get in and out from, it looks more like a side stage entry made for the band members that are playing a gig to use. It leads to an empty dark alley and there's a white van parked near the door; some band's, Gerard supposes. Frank takes just a few steps down the alley away from the door before he leans against the brick wall and takes out a pack of smokes, taking one out and offering the pack to Gerard. He walks towards Frank, taking one of the cigarettes with a small thankful nod and fishes his lighter out of his pocket, lighting up his cigarette and taking that sweet first drag.

Frank seems to be struggling to find his lighter though, patting down pockets over and over again until he gives up and looks at Gerard with pleading eyes and an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips. Gerard laughs, finds himself leaning down towards Frank. There's a moment of panic where Frank's eyes widen and Gerard curses at himself for not thinking of just getting his own lighter out of his pocket where he put it seconds before, but ultimately he gently grabs Frank's cigarette still between his lips and puts the end of his lit cigarette against Frank's unlit one.

Gerard's definitely not looking up from their joined cigarettes so he can see the exact moment Frank sucks in a breath and his cigarette lights up. Gerard draws back immediately but he catches Frank's eyes just for a moment - there's something in them, something he can't quite name or comprehend, but it sends shivers down his spine.

When he leans against the brick wall again there's something new buzzing in the air, making it feel electrified. Gerard can sense Frank's eyes on him for a few moments after, until he leans back against the wall too and tears his eyes away. Gerard feels like he can breathe a bit easier, but the tight feeling in his chest that came from Frank's stare wasn't really something he wanted to brush away. He likes it; it's a kind of shortness of breath he hadn't experienced before and he's hungry for more.

They smoke in a comfortable silence for a few moments. It's kind of amazing, that Gerard can feel this comfortable around someone he hasn't really known for that long, yet it feels like everything's right where it should be, like he belongs right here. So it isn't really a surprise when he finishes his cigarette, drops it to the ground and stubs it out with his foot, and Frank's soft voice makes him look back.

"Hey." Frank's looking at him with big, deep eyes that seem intensified thanks to the eyeliner around them. There's a small smirk curling his lips, soft and warm, the kind Gerard's only seen once before, and it knocks the breath out of him. Gerard feels himself leaning forward although he didn't think about doing it. "Can I -"

Frank starts leaning forward too, his gaze flicking between Gerard's eyes and lips, cigarette forgotten between his fingers burning away. Gerard bites down on his lip. He nods, but just to be sure he mumbles, "Yeah."

The next few seconds are a jumble of thoughts. Gerard closes his eyes instinctively as Frank's leaning up towards him, then he feels Frank's lips against his own and lets out a soft gasp. The first thing that crosses his mind is something akin to a bunch of big exclamation marks; he doesn't have the words for it, but it feels amazing. The second thing is that Frank's a really good kisser and he doesn't want him to stop ever, so he licks along Frank's bottom lip to deepen the kiss, but that sets off the third thought.

Gerard breaks away from the kiss with a wet sound, Frank following him on trying to continue the kiss, but he places his hands on Frank's shoulders, stopping him, and just stares open mouthed. He'd had his suspicions about it, about the glitter he saw shining in Frank's lips, but he hadn't actually thought about it being true. He hadn't ever imagined he would be tasting cherries as he kissed Frank either, but he _is_ and the thought of Frank applying lip gloss right before the show makes Gerard's head spin. He has no idea where all this _want_ is coming from, but it's there and he doesn't know what to do with it. He only knows he needs to keep kissing Frank like he needs air to breathe, so he's gonna keep doing that.

Gerard leaps forward again, capturing Frank's lips in his own, feels Frank gasp into his mouth. He's vaguely aware of Frank's unfinished cigarette dropping to the ground when Frank buries his hands in Gerard's hair and pushes him towards the wall, trapping Gerard in between his body and the hard surface. It seems to encourage Frank on because he sneaks his tongue past Gerard's parted lips and presses Gerard against the wall, dropping his hands to Gerard's hips, thumbs sneaking up under his shirt and digging into soft, warm flesh. Gerard's hips buck at the sensation.

Gerard numbly realizes he's half hard inside his jeans. He starts panicking about what _that_ means but the thoughts immediately leave his head as he feels one of Frank's hands let go of his hip and start moving over the waistband of his jeans, fingertips sneaking inside and pulling at the fabric. Gerard breaks the kiss by bumping his head against the wall but Frank doesn't stop kissing him, instead moving onto his jaw and neck.

"Oh God." It comes out in a broken gasp, Gerard's voice rough at the edges and tinted with heat. Frank's fingertips dig in further, past the elastic of Gerard's boxers to his pubic hair and it's so close to his hard dick Gerard feels himself choking on his own spit. "Fuck -"

"Can I - _please_?" Frank's out of breath, panting hot against Gerard's throat, thumb playing with the button on Gerard's jeans. His voice sounds strained as he begs and it makes Gerard groan low on his throat.

"Yeah, _yes_."

Frank doesn't need any more encouragement, opening Gerard's jeans immediately, sneaking his hand into Gerard's underwear and around his dick. Gerard's hips buck when Frank's rough calloused hands wrap around him, tight and hot. Gerard moans as Frank starts moving his hand, working on marking Gerard's collarbones with his teeth at the same time, licking the red skin after he’s done.

Gerard doesn’t know what to do with his hands, lost in the sensations of everything Frank’s doing, so they end up spasmodically closing and opening against the brick wall until Frank moves his mouth further up, to the place where Gerard’s neck and shoulders meet, and bites down there. One of Gerard’s hand immediately fly up to Frank’s head, grabbing hold of Frank’s hair at the longer part of his mohawk. He doesn't know what to do with it once it’s there though, doesn’t know if he’s trying to pull Frank away or bring him closer to his skin, so he just lets it rest there and lets Frank decide what he thinks it means.

Frank seems to appreciate it, since his strokes speed up on Gerard’s dick and he pants open mouthed and hot against Gerard’s tender skin. Gerard lets out an obscenely loud moan and balls up his hand on Frank’s hair into a fist. Frank reciprocates his moan at that, mutters some curses under his breath. He detaches himself from Gerard’s neck and looks at him with hot, needy eyes. Frank seems to come to a decision right then, nodding.

“Okay, okay.”

Frank’s hand unwraps from around Gerard, which enacts a low whine from him and a breathless giggle from Frank. Both are cut short when Gerard’s whine turns into a choked gasp as Frank drops to his knees and hooks his fingers through Gerard’s belt loops, looking up at Gerard silently asking for permission. Gerard swallows thickly, and nods. Frank grins, mischevous.

The jeans are surprisingly easy to tug down but Frank doesn’t bother pulling them off all the way, just enough for him to get Gerard’s tented boxers right on his face. He stops halfway through Gerard’s thighs and instead grabs the elastic of Gerard’s boxers. Gerard’s gaze is fixated in Frank, looking down at him on his knees on the dirty alley floor, probably scratching and bruising his knees to hell, panting; Frank’s fixated on Gerard’s hard dick in front of him, like his world has been reduced only to that.

Not looking up, Frank slides down Gerard’s boxers over his hard on, makes them join Gerard’s jeans mid thigh. He licks his lips. Gerard wonders if there’s any leftover taste of cherries on them, if he’ll leave his dick sticky with the gloss, if he’ll be able to taste cherries anywhere else on Frank’s skin.

Gerard can’t seem to tear his eyes away from him as Frank bends down and takes Gerard’s cock into his mouth; only the tip first, like he’s testing himself out, and then going down slowly. He curls a hand around the base, looks up at Gerard. When their eyes meet, Gerard sucks in a breath and bites down on his lip, hard.

The feeling of Frank's tight, hot mouth around him is almost too much already, and Frank's eyes filled with need and heat almost send Gerard over the edge. He has to close his eyes and let out a long dragged out moan, banging his head against the wall. He can feel his orgasm slowly build up at the bottom of his stomach.

Frank's other hand wanders up to Gerard's hip and then behind to his ass, encouraging Gerard to buck into his mouth. Gerard's hips only twitch at first but when Frank's hand gets more insisting, pressing Gerard forward until his cock hits the back of Frank's throat, he loses it and buries his hands on Frank's hair. Frank moans around Gerard at that and the vibrations rip a string of curses from his mouth. Gerard's hands tighten on Frank's hair and his hips snap forward, feeling Frank relax his throat around him and just let himself be used, Jesus _fuck_.

There is Frank, the most gorgeous person Gerard's ever seen, down on his knees for Gerard and letting himself be used raw; it's overwhelming. With another glance at Frank's mouth around him he thrusts again, encouraged by Frank's hand on his ass, and comes down his throat, Gerard’s vision whiting out and feeling like his whole body jerks with it. The only word he seems to know right then is Frank's name and he chants it like a prayer as he comes.

He's totally spent after, slumping down on the wall trying to get some air back into his lungs. He looks down at Frank, still on his knees on the ground, his red used mouth curled up in a satisfied smile, his eyelids drooping over his eyes. He looks gorgeous and spent too, like he just came as well, a bit of stray come dripping down his chin. He notices Gerard looking and sneaks his tongue out, licking it clean while looking Gerard directly in the eyes. Gerard lets out a whine, his brain unable to come up with any other kind of sound or words.

Frank raises to his feet, grimacing when he needs to flex his knees to do so. When he gets to eye level with Gerard he looks glossy eyed and drunk. Gerard's a bit taken aback since he's sure Frank didn't look drunk at all before, but then Frank buries his face on Gerard's neck and starts nipping at it, pressing his hard on to Gerard's thigh and _oh_. He had totally forgotten about that.

Frank's panting against Gerard's neck, hot and open mouthed. "Please." His voice is wrecked, raw, and it sends shivers down Gerard's spine.

Gerard swallows thickly and nods, his hands on Frank's zipper, getting it open with a bit of struggle around Frank's cock straining the fabric. When he finally gets them open and is able to sneak his hand inside them, there's this moment of confusion when his fingers meet hot, taut skin instead of another layer of fabric. Frank moans when Gerard wraps his fingers around him and Gerard belatedly realizes Frank hadn't been wearing any underwear all this time.

Gerard starts moving his hand, jacking Frank off, and Frank seems to appreciate it if his hips bucking and the moans coming out of his mouth are enough to go by, but there's something awkward, something doesn't finish clicking. Gerard unwraps his hand from around Frank, who groans low on his throat in protest and continues it on with a high pitched whine.

"Wha - what." Frank's voice is confused and sounds almost hurt against Gerard's neck. Gerard shushes him and nudges his hip with a hand.

"Turn around."

"But I thought -"

Gerard nudges him again, more insistently this time, and Frank finally gives in, turning around. Gerard immediately wraps his arms around Frank's torso and brings him closer, Frank's back flush against his chest. He presses his mouth against the back of Frank's neck, where he can see another tattoo peeking out from under his shirt and he wonders how many more there are hidden underneath all those clothes, wants to take them all off, lay Frank down on the alley and examine him from head to toe. One of his hands wanders under Frank's shirt, creeping up to his chest and bringing Frank closer by applying pressure; the other one curls around one of Frank's hips and keeps moving until it wraps around Frank's cock.

This time it's more natural, the angle something Gerard recognizes and remembers. He hasn't ever been one to jack off much, but the couple of times he's done it are enough to make it feel more comfortable like this. His brain definitely knows this isn't himself he's jacking off though, his whole body still tingling with aftershocks of his orgasm and making everything feel amplified.

Gerard realizes he didn't exactly think this through when Frank bucks into his hand and then back, his jean-clad ass brushing against Gerard's sensitive dick. Gerard hisses from the sensation, the overstimulation teetering on the edge of too much, bites down on Frank's neck. He can't make himself pull away, even when Frank realizes what he just did and very deliberately starts thrusting back as well as forward, fucking into Gerard's hand and making him whimper.

It takes a few minutes for it to turn into more than what Gerard can handle. When it does, Gerard growls at Frank, a warning; when Frank thrusts back again, Gerard takes his hand out from under Frank's shirt and shoves it in his hair, pulling Frank's head down against his shoulder, forcing Frank to arch away from his hips. He still tries, the fucker, but lets out a breathy laugh when he realizes he can't reach anymore. Gerard shuts him up by sucking on his earlobe and flicking his wrist on the upstroke, rubbing his thumb over the head of Frank's cock.

"God - Fuck, _Gerard_." Frank's voice is strained to hell and if Gerard could somehow get it up again right then, he thinks just listening to Frank talk and moan like that would do the trick. "Don't - don't stop that."

Gerard laughs right against Frank's ear. "Didn't plan to."

"Please, I'm gonna -" Frank's got no reason to beg, really, but fuck if he doesn't sound amazing doing it.

"Yeah, okay." Gerard keeps doing the thing with his wrist that makes Frank's moans drag out, keeps rubbing his thumb over the head of Frank's dick.

If his moans are anything to go by, Frank seems to be right on the edge of coming with how high pitched they are. Gerard lets go of Frank's hair and shoves two of his fingers into Frank's mouth. Frank moans obscenely around them, coming in spurts that stain the concrete floor of the alley and cover Gerard's hand as he strokes him through it.

Gerard takes his fingers out of Frank's mouth when he slumps back against Gerard, wipes them on the side of Frank's shirt, which makes Frank snort.

" _Now_ you're worried about being clean, after we fucked in a dirty alley?" Frank's voice is light, totally not making a big deal out of the fact that _they just fucked in a dirty alley_ , but it still sets off Gerard's alarms.

The situation hadn't really dawn on him until that moment, but it is now and he starts freaking out until the sound of a phone ringing startles both of them. Gerard realizes it's his and he wipes his come smeared hand on his shirt quickly, pulling his jeans up and taking his cellphone out of his back pocket. Frank steps away, turning around to face Gerard, with a curious look on his face as he zips up his jeans too. Gerard can't make himself look at Frank, instead turning around and covering the ear not on the phone with a hand to drown out the noise coming from the club.

"Yeah?" His voice is breathless and a little rough at the edges still.

"Hey, Gerard," Mikey says on the other end. Gerard feels a wave of relief wash over him. "Just called you to remind you we have dinner with mom in two weeks."

Mikey's monotone is a familiarity Gerard had been needing in the midst of all these new, unfamiliar situations and it centers him more than anything else could.

"So clear out your schedule or whatever it is you artists do," Mikey goes on, sounding almost bored and annoyed, but there's affection in his voice.

"Mikey." The name slips out of Gerard's lips in a relieved sigh and laugh. "Mikey. Do you know what time is it?"

"What?" Mikey seems confused by the question, but probably looks at a clock because he says "Huh, I guess it is pretty late. You're always up at this hour anyway, I don't know what you're yelling about."

"It's ok," Gerard says, laughing again, then nods. "Yeah, dinner in two weeks, alright."

"I could come pick you up," Mikey offers, sounding good-naturedly, but Gerard knows is just to make sure he won't bail out.

"Sure," he says, biting down on his nail. He wouldn't pass up the opportunity. "See you Thursday. Love you."

"Love you," Mikey says and the line goes dead.

Gerard hangs up with a relieved smile on his face that slowly fades away as he turns around to find Frank smoking a cigarette with his eyes on the floor. He looks up, a worry in his face Gerard can't quite place, fidgety. Gerard's not sure what's going on but he doesn't really like that look on Frank, so he smiles nervously and waves his phone on the air.

"Brothers, huh? Pretty annoying."

Gerard doesn’t even know when Frank tensed up, but he visibly relaxes and his lips stretch in a lazy smile.

“I wouldn’t know.” He shrugs, takes another drag off his cigarette. “I’m an only child.”

“Oh.” Gerard doesn’t know why he’s surprised. It’s not like he knew much about Frank to begin with. He wants to ask Frank more about it, about his family and his life, but then Frank’s all up in his space, his lips occupied by Frank’s again, and he can’t think to form any kind of words.

Everything’s alright, they’re lazily making out for a couple of minutes, until Frank’s hand wanders to Gerard’s hip again and he remembers what just happened. What they just _did_ out here in this dirty alley. Gerard’s breath quickens and it’s not because of the kiss. His heart starts pounding and it’s not because of the emotion. He breaks the kiss with a wet sound and holds Frank’s head in between his hands to hide the fact that they’re shaking slightly, bringing their foreheads together.

“I gotta go,” Gerard breathes out. The noise of the club still filters through the closed door and the brick wall, but it’s like they’re both trapped in this invisible bubble where it’s eerily quiet and Gerard can’t bring himself to speak up any louder. Thank God Frank hears him, though.

Frank makes a contemplative noise and pouts. “Are you sure?”

Gerard feels almost compelled to stay just because of that, he can feel himself giving in. But then the immensity of the situation comes back and he nods, detaching himself from Frank completely and pushing him back a step so there’s space between them.

“I’m sure,” he says, and then leans forward for a quick and nervous peck at Frank’s lips. He turns around as quick as he can, just barely hearing the goodbye Frank yells at his back, and practically runs to the street and into a cab.

Gerard is panting by the time he rattles off his address to the driver, the anxiety starting to creep into the edges of his vision. It’s not there yet, but he can feel it coming and he just hopes he can hold off until he gets home to start seriously freaking out about the whole thing. He tries to keep his mind blank for the ride and mostly succeeds, his breath and pulse quickening more than normal only once or twice. The whole trip to getting out of the cab, up the stairs to his apartment and actually inside is a blur. His mind isn’t really reacting right now, not wanting to process the events of tonight, so it’s just doing the bare minimum to keep him going until he can reach his bed.

When he does, he unlaces his boots, toes them off, and just lets himself flop down on the bed on top of the covers. He lays there, still, trying to will his breathing back to normal and his heart to stop pounding. It works, kind of, and he’s at least mostly relaxed by the time he takes off his jacket and pulls the covers over himself, not bothering to get out of his jeans or change at all. He can do that in the morning. He can also do the worrying in the morning. Whatever.

*

When Gerard wakes up he notices four things: 1) His whole body is achy and uncomfortable, 2) His mouth tastes like something dead took camp in it, 3) His ears are ringing and 4) His lips feel bruised and so does his neck. He mentally makes a list to find the cause of all of those.

1) He slept in last night’s clothes - those jeans are so tight, what was he thinking? So, check. 2) He drank nothing but soda last night and he desperately needs to get some water into his system. So, check. 3) The show he went to last night; he isn’t used to such loud music for so long anymore and it really took a toll on his ears. So, check.

But, fourth? Gerard brings his hand to his lips; they feel sore, like they had been used for a long time and there’s a vague memory trying to creep its way into his brain, but it doesn’t get there yet. He decides he should at least empty his bladder first, splash some water on his face in hopes that it’ll wake him up enough to remember.

He didn’t even drink a single drop of alcohol last night but his brain sometimes still does that, blocks the memories out like he got drunk off his mind and forgot everything, and he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s a behavior his brain learned that it can’t unlearn now he’s sober. He goes through his morning routine but nothing comes back to him, not even when he basically washes his hair with how much water he’s splashing on his face and head. He ends up angry at himself, rubbing a towel over his hair furiously, unable to remember.

Gerard gets through his morning coffee cup and all of his breakfast without remembering a single thing. It’s only when he angrily shoves the empty bowl on the sink, turns towards the microwave and can see his reflection on the surface of it that he sees the deep purple marks on his neck and collarbones and it all comes back to him.

He grips the edge of the counter and takes a deep breath as all the memories come rushing back to his mind. The dirty alley, the cigarettes, the blowjob and handjob. He can’t believe he actually did all of that last night. He had never been attracted to anyone sexually, let alone go as far as to have any kind of sexual contact with them, but with Frank everything flowed nicely and it just felt right. He didn’t feel awkward or out of place, he felt like he belonged there, pressed between Frank’s body and the hard brick wall.

But what the fuck does that mean? He brings his thumb to his lips and starts chewing on the nail as he tries to consider all the possibilities.The only kind of relationships he’s had were back in junior high and they did nothing but hold hands and sometimes peck at the other person’s lips. What does it mean now he’s brought sex into the equation? Gerard’s not sure he can handle thinking about that right now.

So he doesn’t. Instead, he digs out his sketchbook from a pile in his desk, grabs a couple of pencils and loses himself in drawing. After about an hour of indulging in his own projects, he gets to work on his commissions. The deadlines he has to meet are still pretty far away, so he can work at his own pace. He focuses on the commissions for a good while. When he wakes up from his haze the light filtering through his curtains has turned orange and his stomach is grumbling. He gets up to get something to eat, then comes back to keep working.

He most definitely not thinks about going into Starbucks for a cup of coffee.

Neither does he the next day, or the next, or the whole week. He holes himself up in his apartment, concentrating only on finishing his commissions and then, when he runs out of those, his personal projects. He doesn’t have much to work on, only a couple of characters that look like could develop into a pretty interesting comic book, but he still invests himself in it as much as he can.

It’s been a whole week and three days of the same shit when Mikey busts in through the door, making Gerard jump almost three feet in the air and spill ink everywhere. He had been inking some final details for this page on his comic book but now it’s all ruined, splotches everywhere. Gerard makes a face at it and then up at Mikey, who’s standing in the doorway, fuming.

“What the fuck?” They say in unison, but with very different meanings and in very different tones.

Mikey closes the door behind him and takes off his coat, placing it on the back of a chair, skipping along the mess on Gerard’s floor. There’s sketchbooks everywhere, as well as pens and carton take outs. Finally, he gets to Gerard’s side on the couch and Gerard folds his legs under himself, giving Mikey room to sit. He chews on the nail of his thumb, watching Mikey maneuver the comics and sketchbooks thrown all over the couch to make himself a place to sit.

Once he finally manages to sit down, Mikey just stays there and stares at Gerard. Gerard switches fingers and starts chewing on his index finger nail. Mikey stares. Gerard lets out a groan and throws his hands up in the air in defeat.

“What?” he asks, harshly.

“You tell me.” Mikey’s voice is monotone, not giving anything away, and Gerard hates it.

“What do you want me to tell you?” Gerard crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares at Mikey with an eyebrow cocked. He’s actually shaking inside.

“Why have you holed yourself up in here for more than a week.” Mikey is calm as he replies, he sounds almost razonable. Gerard _hates_ it.

“I have work, you know,” Gerard says, trying for a casual and disinterested tone, but probably failing miserably. Mikey’s snort confirms it.

“Which you have finished already, probably since five days ago.”

Gerard tightens his arms in front of himself and lifts up his chin defensively. “How would you know?”

Mikey nods towards the page on Gerard’s lap, splotched to hell with the ink he accidentally spilled earlier. “That’s not a commission.”

Gerard opens his mouth to discuss, to ask how Mikey would know the difference between his own work and a commission, but he knows the answer to that already and knows it’s a fight he has zero chances of winning. When he’s working on a commission he’s neat and makes sure there are no mistakes in the art, whereas when he’s working on his own stuff he’s mostly careless and sometimes even messy. It’s the same style, but expressed differently. Mikey has seen his style and art grow up so there’s no way he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Gerard sighs, defeated.

“What is it about?” Mikey points to the sketchbook on Gerard’s lap with his chin.

“Uhm,” Gerard mumbles as he fidgets with the ruined page in his hand. He’s actually glad he was working on the Academy project when Mikey busted in - instead of the Superheroes project that involved both him and Frank and embarrassingly cheesy scenes. “It’s this story about seven orphans who all have some kind of superpower…” And once he gets started he doesn’t stop talking.

He tells Mikey everything he has so far, from the characters and their designs, to the storyline and plot twists he’s planning. He gets lost in it and Mikey seems drawn in too, genuinely interested in this new project of Gerard. Ultimately, though, Gerard runs out of things to say about the Academy universe and the conversation lulls into silence again. He gets up to put some coffee on and just stands there with his hands on the counter watching the coffee maker do its thing. There’s tension in the air and it makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.

“Why haven’t you gone to Starbucks all week?”

And there it is, the bomb that breaks the silence. Mikey’s tone is casual, not letting any kind of emotion through as usual, but Gerard knows he’s concerned, otherwise he wouldn’t have come all the way to Gerard’s apartment. Gerard grips the counter so hard his knuckles turn white as all the memories come back rushing to him.

“I can’t,” he finally says, his voice strangled.

“Why?” It’s just one word, but the way Mikey says it feels so full of genuine concern it almost gets Gerard crying there and then.

Instead, Gerard waits until the coffee stops brewing, pours two cups of it and brings them to the little table next to the couch on the living room where Mikey is still sitting, looking at his every move. It’s kind of unnerving, but Gerard knows Mikey means no harm.

Gerard sits down on the couch with his legs folded up under him, the cup of coffee cradled between both his hands. He blows on it, takes a sip, and finally looks up at Mikey. Mikey’s eyes are firm but open, ready to receive without judgement whatever’s about to come out of Gerard’s mouth and that’s what finally breaks Gerard. Once he opens his mouth and starts telling Mikey everything that’s been going on he can’t seem to stop.

When he finishes, he’s out of breath, his heart is pounding and the little bit of coffee still left in his cup is cold. He drinks it anyway. He looks at Mikey expectantly, waiting for his response.

“Why haven’t you gone to Starbucks in a week?” Mikey repeats, looking down into his own empty coffee cup.

Gerard throws his arms in the air and groans, frustrated. “I’ve told you why! You know exactly why!”

“No,” Mikey states. “You’ve told me you had a good time with this guy and you seem to like each other. You haven’t told me why you haven’t gone back to see him.”

Gerard gapes at him, trying to come up with something that will set off the discussion and make them both angry and frustrated, but he’s too tired for that. He’s too tired of denying and of hiding his fears behind a thin veil. He looks down at his lap and plays with his fingers.

“What if he hates me?” Gerard’s voice is broken and small. Mikey begins to protest, but Gerard cuts him short by looking up. “I mean, what if it was just a one night stand for him? What if he never wants to see me again? You know I can’t do one night stands, Mikey.”

Mikey seems to shut up at that, his mouth a thin line crooked in worry. He sighs, defeated.

“I know you don’t do one night stands, Gerard.” Mikey pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “What if he doesn’t either?”

Gerard hadn’t considered that. He frowns. “Why wouldn’t he do one night stands?”

Mikey rolls his eyes. “Everybody has different reasons.”

Gerard brings his thumb back up to his mouth. His gaze wanders down to his lap again and he zones out, deep in thought. Would it be worth it? And if Frank does want something more than a one night stand, then _what_? The only relationships Gerard’s been in happened at least 10 years ago and they only held hands and hung out. He has no idea what the protocol for these things is.

He still hasn’t come to a decision when Mikey shoves at his shoulder. “Go change.” Gerard looks up, ready to fight back, but Mikey stares his down. “Go. Change,” he repeats, each word a sentence, harsher this time.

Gerard might’ve not made a decision yet, but somebody else has made it for him. He sighs, pushes away all the shit on the couch without even bothering to check if it’s important or not, goes straight to his bedroom. The pile of clothes on the floor is definitely not clean, but the pile on the bed is semi-clean, probably acceptable to wear outdoors, so he picks a shirt and a pair of jeans and puts them on. He doesn’t even stop to make sure that they match or anything of the sort; Frank’s not gonna want to see his face again anyway, so why even care?

With a sigh he puts on some sneakers and heads out to the living room where Mikey is already waiting by the door, his coat draped over himself. Gerard grabs his from the arm of the couch where it had been carelessly thrown days before, slings the strap of his bag over his shoulder and very reluctantly follows Mikey outside.

Like he’s sensing Gerard will escape at the first opportunity he gets, Mikey wraps a hand around Gerard’s bicep to guide him down the stairs and into the passenger seat of Mikey’s car. Silent the whole time, he turns the engine on and starts driving to the Starbucks Gerard frequents, the one where Frank works.

Gerard can’t stop fidgeting. It’s a Monday, so he knows Frank’s working today, but maybe he changed his schedule and Gerard won’t have to see him there. Or maybe Frank asked for a transfer and he’s working at another Starbucks. Maybe he wanted to avoid Gerard so bad he tried to get away as fast as possible. Maybe he asked his coworkers to warn him as soon as Gerard was in sight so he can hide and never have to face him again. Maybe he’ll fake being sick or getting in a car accident so Gerard doesn’t come looking for him.

He’s so lost in his anxiety, all the _maybes_ rattling around in his head, he doesn’t notice the moment Mikey pulls up in the parking lot of the Starbucks and gets out of the car. There’s a sound right next to Gerard’s head and he jumps a bit, startled, looking back at Mikey tapping on the window. He mumbles a reassurance to himself and opens the door, stepping out. As soon as he’s out though, Mikey’s hand is back around his forearm, guiding him into the coffee shop. He’s about to protest, to start ranting about how he’s not a child and he doesn’t need Mikey’s guidance but, honestly? He doesn’t trust himself to not go off running the first opportunity he gets.

So he shuts his mouth, lets himself be led by Mikey into the coffee shop, eyes casted downwards. He’s not going to look towards the counter, he’s not going to search for a pair of hazel eyes, he’s not going to examine every detail of tattooed arms. Instead, he’s going to sit down at his usual table, the only difference being that Mikey will also be sitting there.

Gerard walks to his usual spot. He always sits down on the couch facing the counter; it'd be so easy to just sneak up a glance and check if Frank's in shift or not, but he keeps his eyes peeled to his hands on his lap. What he isn't expecting, though, is for Mikey to sit across from him on the other couch right away. He looks up, surprised, and thankfully Mikey's skinny frame is enough to block his view of the counter. Mikey raises an eyebrow, the rest of his face expressionless.

"Aren't you gonna go order our coffee?"

Gerard gapes, stutters when he talks. "Why - why don't you -"

Mikey’s stare hardens. "Go order our coffee. You know what I like."

Gerard gulps and nods frantically, wringing his hands. "Okay."

Gerard gets up, but keeps his eyes down, looking at the floor as he walks to the register. When he gets there, he looks up to find Brian again. He manages a nervous smile and does not stray his gaze away from Brian's face.

"The usual?" It's like Brian can sense something's off, but he still smiles back at Gerard.

"Yeah." Gerard nods. "And add a Venti Caramel Macchiato to that."

Brian's gaze flickers to the side, towards the counter where _someone's_ making the drinks. Gerard very decidedly does not follow his gaze.

"Coming right up," Brian says and Gerard pays, thanks him with a nod.

He turns around, starts walking towards the other end of the counter where he'll receive the drinks. He stops midway, leaning against the coffee machines and playing with the receipt on his hands. He knows he's been avoiding Frank, knows the moment will come when he'll have to face him, but he'll drag out the waiting for as long as he can. The anxiety is tying his stomach in knots.  When he finally hears a familiar voice boom through the shop, he inhales sharply.

"Jaden!"

Gerard snorts, the familiarity of Frank calling him anything but his name easing off a bit of the anxiety. At least they haven't lost that.

He turns around, walks towards the end of the counter to pick up the drinks. He heaves a very big inhale before he looks up and finds Frank's hazel eyes staring at him, his mouth slightly curled in a barely-there smile.

"Hey," Frank says, holding both coffees in his hands.

"Hey," Gerard replies, a nod for a greeting and a nervous smile curling his lips. He fidgets with his hands, still not reaching out for the drinks.

Frank points to the table Gerard was sitting on with his chin. "That your brother? The one that called you the other night?"

Gerard doesn't have to look back to know Mikey's sitting there, probably engrossed on his phone, but he still does. It gives him a distraction from the way his heartbeat sped up at Frank mentioning _the other night_. He tries to gulp down around the knot on his throat and looks at Frank, nodding.

"Yeah."

"Was he sick?" Frank asks, actual concern worrying his features.

"What?" Gerard's taken aback, his brow furrowed in confusion and surprise.

"I mean," Frank starts fake-nonchalantly, shrugs. "You haven't come here in so long, I thought maybe he'd gotten sick and you were taking care of him or something."

"I -" That's the moment Gerard realizes he doesn't have any kind of excuse. He tries to come up with one quickly, but Frank cuts him short.

"Or were _you_ sick?" Frank's eyes narrow and somehow he looks more concerned than before.

Gerard motions wildly with his hands in front of him, shaking his open palms. "No, no. Nothing like that. I just -" Gerard can see Frank relax and he gulps. "I had too much work?" He doesn't mean for it to come out as a question, but it does and he mentally slaps himself for it. God, he's the worst liar _ever_.

Frank can totally see through him, because he smiles knowingly, like a cat that's gotten the little mouse in between his paws.

"Okay." Even though they both know it's a total lie, Frank accepts it and doesn't press further. Gerard smiles, the tension leaving his shoulders, and reaches out for the coffees. Frank doesn't release his grip on them, though. "You'll be coming back, right? Like before?" He's smiling, but there's tension straining the corners of his mouth.

Gerard actually ponders about it. The anxiety that made his chest hurt and his hands shake has mostly dissipated and the tension he felt on the air between him and Frank is no longer there. It's almost like things have gone back to normal. Gerard takes in a breath, releases it slowly, a soft smile curling his lips.

"Yeah. I'll be coming back."

The tension leaves Frank's smile and he finally lets go of the coffee cups. Gerard pulls them close to his chest.

"Be seeing you, then," says Frank with a wink and a smirk to Gerard.

Gerard only has time to nod before he ducks his head to hide the blush staining his cheeks a deep red and walks back to the table Mikey's sitting on.

"Took you long enough." Mikey doesn't even look up from his phone, only reaches out with a hand to grab his coffee and take a sip.

"I know." Gerard replies, but he's trying to hide his blush and small smile behind the lid of his coffee cup. Mikey looks up at that, smiles back to Gerard.

Gerard looks at Frank again, a remaining of the blush still staining his cheeks a soft pink. When Gerard catches Frank's eyes, they smile at each other. And it's that easy.

*

Gerard starts coming back to Starbucks nearly every day. He only misses a couple of days when he's on a really tight deadline or he's going out to dinner with Mikey or his parents. It isn't intentional, but with every day that passes he manages to stay later and later until one day he feels a soft tap on his shoulder. He looks up from his sketchbook, eyes a bit dazed, trying to shake himself off from the trance of getting lost in his drawing process. Frank's standing over him, a smile on his lips.

"Hey. We're about to close up." Frank's got a white towel slung over his shoulder, like he'd just been cleaning up tables.

Gerard looks around and realizes with a start that, yeah, the coffee shop's deserted and all the tables but his are cleaned up. It totally looks like they're about to close up the place.

He blushes. How did he not notice everyone leaving? And why didn't Frank tell him to leave? He starts gathering up his things in a hurry, but Frank stops him with a hand on his shoulder. Gerard looks up. Frank's biting down on his lip, a bit hesitant.

"If you... If you can wait for a few more minutes we can go back to my place and - I don't know. Hang out for a few hours?" Frank smiles and Gerard swears it's the first time he's seen him nervous. "I mean, if you're free."

Gerard starts shaking his head before he realizes Frank could interpret that as a no to his proposal. "No, I mean. Yes. I'm free. And I'd like to - to go to your place."

Frank's smile grows confident and bigger. "Alright. I'll let you know when I'm ready to go."

Gerard nods and turns back to take out his sketchbook and pens out of his bag again as Frank walks away. He doodles for just a few minutes before Frank's back at his side, green apron discarded and a backpack slung over his shoulder.

The implications in going to Frank's place late at night don't dawn on him until they're walking to Frank's apartment. He reassured Gerard it wasn't far away, just a few blocks, and offered him a cigarette. They're both smoking in silence, walking comfortably next to each other, bumping shoulders every now and then.

He and Frank aren't dating - or at least he doesn't think so, but they've hooked up once already. Are they going to hook up again? Gerard's not sure he wants that, not tonight. So he's skittish, drumming his fingers against his thigh, ashing his cigarette more than necessary. He's nervous as to what's about to happen, what _could_ happen.

They get to Frank's apartment building and go up the stairs to his floor. Frank stops in front of a door marked B20, takes out his keys, opening up the door and stepping inside before Gerard.

"Home sweet home," he breathes out, looks back at Gerard with a small smile on his face. Gerard smiles back and closes the door behind him. "Coffee?" Frank asks as he takes his coat off.

"Sure, why not?" Nevermind the fact that they just came from a coffee shop. Gerard would never reject coffee, though.

While Frank walks towards the kitchen, presumably to get the coffee brewing, Gerard looks around the apartment. It isn't big or fancy, but it's cozy and feels like somewhere you could call home. It's way more organized and clean than Gerard's apartment, but that isn't saying much; almost every apartment is cleaner than Gerard's. There's a bookshelf lining a wall, full of books, comics and DVDs. Gerard wanders to it, curious to get a glimpse into Frank's mind.

He runs his fingers over the spines of the books, his touch feather light. He knows he wouldn't ever harm them in any way, but some people take their possessions very personally and are weird about people touching them. There's a couple of classics, like Catcher in the Rye, The Lord of the Flies, some compilation of Kurt Vonnegut's works. There's also trades of comic books and Gerard's gladly surprised to find some of his favorites: Doom Patrol, The Invisibles, Watchmen. He has a lot more in common with Frank than he thought.

"Get yourself comfortable!" Comes Frank's voice from the kitchen.

So Gerard grabs the hardcover Doom Patrol trade and goes to sit down on the couch. It's a nice couch, worn but even more comfortable because of that. He barely gets through half of the first issue when Frank's coming back into the living room, two cups of coffee in his hands. He offers one to Gerard, who puts down the comic book and accepts it, cradles the other one against his chest. He sits down on the couch next to Gerard, turning his body around so he’s facing him.

Gerard takes a sip of his coffee and he doesn't know how Frank did it, but it's perfect, just the right amount of bittersweet. Frank takes a sip too, then points to the discarded Doom Patrol with his chin.

"You like it?"

Gerard beams. "It's one of my favorites. The comic book that actually made me wanna do it too. Like, for a living."

Frank's eyebrows go up just a tiny bit. "Oh, so that's what you do? Do you do comic books for a living? That's so rad."

Gerard's smile wavers. "Well, actually any kind of art. Most of the time they're comic books, but I also do other kinds of art. I'm an artist."

It feels weird to say it out loud, the word always held so much weight and Gerard didn't feel worthy enough for it most of the time, but he's gotten better. Because this is what he does, he does art. So, he's an artist.

"That's awesome." Frank smiles, warm and proud. "I kind of figured, what with all the sketchbooks and pens and stuff."

Gerard lets out a short laugh. "Yeah. I kind of like working on my stuff on Starbucks. It's nice."

" _You're_ nice," Frank replies and Gerard blushes a bit, a small smile on his lips.

Frank puts down his coffee on the table next to the couch and starts leaning forwards. Gerard puts down his cup too, looking at Frank's soft smile and his eyes flicking between Gerard's eyes and lips.

"Hey," Frank says and it's soft, careful, an unspoken request.

"Hey," Gerard replies and closes up the distance between them, pressing his lips to Frank's on a chaste kiss.

They stay like that for only a few seconds, until Frank starts pushing softly at Gerard, who goes willingly to lay down on the couch. Frank ends up straddling his hips, their crotches in contact, but there's no more to it. They're just kissing, slow and dirty, hands rucking up hair and clothes. They keep at it until their breaths run out and their lips feel bruised.

They have no idea how much time has passed when Frank sits up, both of his hands on Gerard's chest for levering, and smiles down at him, his lips red and shiny with spit. Gerard smiles back. He feels amazing, on top of the world.

Frank's eyelids are droopy, his expression relaxed, almost sleepy. He runs one of his hands through Gerard's hair, pushing it out of his face. Gerard feels relaxed too, boneless, and he could probably fall asleep just like that, with Frank on top of him. There's this warm and tingling sensation all over his body, more intense in the places he's touching Frank's skin.

Then Frank gets up, walks towards the bookshelf on the wall. Gerard sits up, trying to fix his hair with his fingers as much as he can, and looks at Frank curiously. None of them have spoken a word. It doesn’t feel like they need to.

Gerard sees Frank pull out a DVD from the shelf and nod towards a door on the left, presumably his bedroom. He starts walking towards it without checking if Gerard is following or not, and leaves the door open after himself. Gerard gets up in a hurry and follows Frank, hovering in the door, watching Frank toe off his sneakers, put the movie on and then crawl into bed. Gerard's wringing his hands, unsure of what to do. Is he supposed to get into bed with Frank? And what would that _mean_?

Frank rests his back against the headboard, adjusting the pillows behind his back and the covers loosely slung over his hips. He looks at Gerard in the doorway, stretches out a hand with a lazy smile on his face and, okay, Gerard can take a hint.

Gerard walks towards him, stopping halfway to toe off his shoes, and hops up the bed by taking Frank's outstretched hand. He crawls towards him and ends up straddling his thighs, their faces mere inches away from each other. Gerard pecks at Frank's lips quickly, pulls back with a smile.

"What movie are we watching?" Gerard asks, his hand ruffling Frank's hair.

Frank leans up into it, then pulls Gerard close and buries his head on Gerard's neck, placing a quick kiss there. He breathes against Gerard's neck, the sensation making Gerard shiver.

"Nightmare Before Christmas," replies Frank, pulling away from Gerard, a cheeky smile on his face.

"Perfect."

Gerard rolls over from Frank's lap into the bed, lowers himself until his back rests against the headboard, mirroring Frank's position, and turns to look at him.

"Just don't complain when I'm singing along."

Frank giggles. "I won't. Only because I'll be singing along too."

He presses play on the remote and after that it's all off-key voices unashamedly singing along to the songs on the movie, reciting dialogues back and forth, giggles all around. It's the best time Gerard's had in forever. But it had been a long day and both he and Frank were tired, so by the time Jack's sleigh has crashed down and he's lamenting on the cemetery, Frank's eyes are slipping closed and he's having a hard time staying awake.

Gerard isn't much better, but he's still conscious and he looks at Frank for a while, just stares at him with this warm feeling spreading all over his chest, before he shakes Frank lightly.

"Hey," Gerard says softly and Frank grumbles, blinking his eyes open. "Maybe we should call it a night?"

Frank looks back at Gerard, blinks once very slowly and nods. "Okay."

Gerard's hand travels to the covers to pull them off himself and get out of bed, but Frank stops him with a hand on his wrist.

"You still free tonight?" Frank's probably struggling to speak clearly since he slurs the words a little bit.

Gerard frowns. "Yeah, why?"

"Stay." Frank's grip tightens on Gerard's wrist. "Please."

Gerard gulps, then nods. "Okay."

He crawls back into the bed while Frank pulls off his shirt and wriggles out of his jeans. Gerard stares for a moment, but he can't quite make out all the tattoos on Frank's chest with only the dim lighting of the TV still playing the movie in the background. He can see that they're there, though, and that makes his hands twitch. He wants to see them all, learn them all from memory, trace every single line. He sighs. Maybe later.

He takes off his jeans too but leaves his shirt on. He crawls into bed next to Frank, facing each other, but as soon as he gets close enough Frank rolls over and slides back into Gerard's space, his bare back flush to Gerard's chest, the curve of his spine fitting perfectly against Gerard's body. He stretches a hand over them to pull Gerard's arm around him and laces their hands together, holding them close to his chest.

"G'night." Frank's voice is so small and slurred, he's clearly falling asleep.

Gerard buries his nose in Frank's hair and inhales the scent of his shampoo. Cherries again. He smiles against it and places a kiss on the top of Frank's head.

"Goodnight.”

* 

Gerard wakes up disorientated, light filtering through the curtains of a window that is definitely not his. The sun never lights up his room like that, no matter the hour. He blinks sleepily, turns his head to the other side over the pillow. The covers are messed up on the side of the bed, a very clear indicator that someone had been sleeping there. He rolls over onto his stomach to that side of the bed and buries his nose in the pillow. It smells of cherries, of Frank.

Gerard’s stomach swoops. So he _did_ stay the night, it wasn’t just some sort of fantasy his brain made up. He tries to clear the morning fog surrounding his brain and remember. Watching Nightmare before Christmas, singing along to it, having the time of his life with Frank… and then falling asleep together. He can’t believe his luck.

There’s rustling coming from the living room or the kitchen, and Gerard sits up, the covers pooling around his hips and over his legs. Frank walks into the room in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. He beams at Gerard.

“Good morning,” says Frank. He walks towards Gerard, offers the coffee to him.

Gerard tries to blink the sleep away, a goofy smile spreading on his lips as he reaches for the coffee cup. “G’morning,” he mumbles, then takes a sip.

There’s this moment when time seems frozen and Gerard just marvels at the situation he’s gotten himself into. He just woke up in Frank’s bed, he had such a fun night with him last night, and now Frank’s offering him coffee with that gorgeous smile on his face, his eyes lit up by the light filtering through the curtains and oh, _fuck_.

Gerard’s heart skips a beat, his breathing quickens. The realization hits him like a ton of bricks, even though he already knew it all along on the back of his head. He likes Frank. He likes Frank _so much_. He wants to spend every minute of the day with him, learning about him, discovering his tattoos and their backstories, soaking up every little bit of information about Frank he can. He wants to know Frank and he wants to fall for Frank so bad it’s almost scary.

He puts down the coffee cup on the bedside table in a rush, probably spilling some of it on himself but he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s so overwhelmed by this feeling, by this need to have Frank close, both physically and emotionally, that he _has_ to let Frank know somehow.

So Gerard throws his arms around Frank’s neck, pulling him close and making him lose balance, he doesn’t fucking care. Frank’s hands end up on the bed beside his hips to lever himself and Gerard starts peppering kisses all over Frank’s face, finally ends up at his lips and kisses him slow and sweet. He tries to channel all these new feelings making his heart race and his stomach flutter into the kiss, gasping and holding Frank’s face close with both of his hands. When he finally breaks the kiss, he’s breathless. He doesn’t let go of Frank’s face, just rests their foreheads together, his thumb caressing Frank’s cheek absentmindedly.

“Hey,” Gerard breathes out; his eyes still closed, his heart still racing. “I like you. I _really_ like you.”

Gerard can feel Frank’s cheeks tensing up under his thumbs and he has to open his eyes then to see Frank’s smile. It’s so earnest, sweet and open Gerard wants to cry. It makes him feel so warm, so welcomed, so wanted. It feels like a safe space, like home.

“I really like you too.” Frank leans forward to capture Gerard’s mouth in another sweet kiss.

Fuck, Gerard’s sure he’s gonna get cavities from this. It’s all fucking worth it though. Frank’s worth it. Frank’s worth probably everything.

Frank breaks the kiss with a wet sound, looks at Gerard with a smile he can't seem to get off his face and runs his thumb over Gerard's cheekbone, a soft caress.

"We should probably go have breakfast," he says in a soft, warm voice.

"You made breakfast?" asks Gerard, his eyebrows shooting up

Frank giggles. "Yeah, moron. I know how to cook, believe it or not." He stands upright and takes one of Gerard's hands in his, tugs softly. "Let's go."

It turns out, Frank really is a good cook. He'd made some kind of veggie omelette that tasted delicious, and Gerard ate keenly. It’s probably the tastiest breakfast he's had since he started living alone, since his breakfasts were generally reduced to bowls of cereal and sandwiches. He tries to let Frank know how good it is, but every time he tries to talk about it he stuffs even more into his mouth, so he never really gets the chance. He thinks Frank gets the hint, though, because he giggles while he sips his coffee and watches Gerard eat.

They inevitably end up back at the bed, just talking about random shit and getting to know more of each other. It's nice and easy, so it also feels natural the moment Frank rolls over to straddle Gerard's thighs and start kissing him. They start off lazy and slow, the little bit of sleepiness still clinging to their bodies fading out as the kiss gets more intense and hands start to wander under clothes and twisting into hair.

Frank's rutting up against Gerard in no time, his hips bucking against Gerard's of their own accord. He's half hard inside his sweatpants already and Gerard can _feel_ it, as well as he can feel himself growing hard too. Their breaths are jaded and hot, Gerard keens when Frank breaks the kiss to suck a hickey over his collarbone.

Frank's erection is pressing up against Gerard's hip as he sneaks a hand between them to palm Gerard through his boxers. Gerard chokes, a moan startled out of him. He encourages Frank's hand on with a buck of his hips, but Frank's hand starts to wander downwards. Gerard spreads open his legs automatically, giving Frank the space to do whatever he wants to do. Which, apparently, is brush up his fingers against Gerard's hole, pressing up just the tiniest bit.

Gerard's eyes shoot open. "Oh."

Frank's fingers freeze. "Is - is this okay?"

"Yeah." Gerard nods. "It's totally okay. I just -"

Frank leans away from Gerard just enough so he can see his face clearly, his hand slipping back to Gerard’s upper thigh. There’s hesitation and curiosity in the way his eyebrows furrow. “Have you… have you never?”

He doesn’t have to finish the question before Gerard’s shaking his head. “No, I - I had experimented?” Gerard’s suddenly shy, a pink tint of color high on his cheeks. “But on my own. Not with. With anybody else.”

“So.” Frank hesitates for a moment, a bit shy himself. “So you do like it?”

Frank’s thumb starts moving up and down Gerard’s upper thigh and it’s soothing, it helps Gerard calm down.

“Yeah,” Gerard says as he nods. He smiles and leans forward again to capture Frank’s mouth in another kiss. After a few seconds though, Frank moves away again to look at Gerard. He brings both hands to Gerard’s face and looks at him with earnest, open and trusting eyes.

“You know we don’t have to, right?” He says as he looks for something in Gerard’s eyes.

Gerard’s expression softens and he brings up one of his hands to cover Frank’s, turns his head towards it and places a kiss on Frank’s palm, holding it close. “I know. But I want to.”

And it’s true. The sentence feels weird in Gerard’s tongue, foreign and new, never before had he wanted someone the way he wants Frank. But he’s realized he wants Frank and he wants _this_. There’s no one else he’d rather experience this than with Frank.

Frank nods once. “Okay,” he says and then he’s back at Gerard’s lips, kissing him with renewed hunger and passion.

With both of them already riled up by their previous make out session it takes no time for Frank’s hips to start rocking slowly, dragging his hard on against Gerard’s hip, the sensation driving both of them crazy. He moves his hands, touching and caressing anywhere he can reach, until they end up at Gerard’s hips and then his fingertips dip under the elastic band of Gerard’s boxers to ghost over his ass. Gerard lets out a gasp into the kiss and Frank moves downwards to nip at Gerard’s jaw.

“It’ll be easier if you’re on your stomach,” Frank mumbles against Gerard’s jaw, his mouth wet and his breath hot against Gerard’s skin.

“I know.” Gerard nods. “But I’d like it better like this, I think.”

“Alright.” Frank moves his hands away from Gerard’s ass and up to his waist, riding the shirt up. “Off,” he instructs and helps Gerard take the shirt off.

With both of his hands on Gerard’s waist, he tugs softly to slide Gerard down to lay on the bed, who goes willingly. Gerard can feel his own chest rising and falling rapidly with every breath he takes, his heart beating hard against his ribcage. Some of his hair has fallen onto his face and he’s lifting a hand up to brush it off, but Frank’s voice stops him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He sounds like the breath has been knocked out of him and Gerard feels overwhelmed. Frank leans down to place wet kisses over Gerard’s collarbones and down onto his chest. “So beautiful. I can’t believe I get to see you like this.” His hands are running up and down Gerard’s sides, sending shivers down Gerard’s spine. “So lucky. ‘M so lucky,” he mumbles against Gerard’s skin.

His mouth leaves a wet trail as it goes down Gerard’s chest, the place he just kissed feeling cold as he moves downwards. When he gets to Gerard’s navel, he goes back up until his lips are pressed against Gerard’s again and his hands are buried in Gerard’s hair. Gerard tries to bring him closer wrapping his hands around Frank’s neck and tugging, deepening the kiss. When Frank bites down on Gerard’s bottom lip, Gerard moans and his hips lift off the mattress, looking for some friction.

Frank gasps into Gerard’s mouth. “Okay,” he says and takes off his shirt in one swift move. “Okay,” he repeats as he moves to the side of the bed, takes his sweatpants off to remain only in his boxers.

Before he comes back to straddle Gerard’s thighs, he opens the bottom drawer on the bedside table and takes out a condom and a tube of lube. He goes back over Gerard, puts both things next to Gerard’s head on the bed and tugs at the elastic of his boxers experimentally, a final question. Gerard bites his lip and nods, lifting himself up on the mattress so the underwear is easier to take off. Once that’s off, Frank bends down to kiss at Gerard’s navel once again, the skin of his cheek brushing up against the head of Gerard’s cock, ripping a high pitched moan out of Gerard’s throat. Frank smirks up at him, his eyes gleaming.

Frank reaches out a hand and grabs the pillow next to Gerard’s head, motions for Gerard to lift up his hips so he can slide the pillow underneath. “Easier on you this way.”

Gerard nods, adjusts the pillow so it’s comfortable under him, and Frank reaches out again, this time for the lube. He squeezes a small amount onto his palm and spreads it out, then wraps his hand around Gerard's cock. He starts his strokes slow and controlled, just enough to slowly build up heat inside Gerard, which helps him relax. Frank takes his hand off for a second to squeeze some more lube onto his other hand coating his fingers. He starts up his strokes again as his fingers brush up against Gerard's hole. Gerard lets out a choked out moan.

"Okay," Frank breathes out. He straightens up and gets off of Gerard's thighs, instead spreading Gerard's legs open with his feet planted on the bed, and he kneels in between them.

Frank bites down on his bottom lip, palms himself through his underwear. Gerard smirks. "C'mon."

"Yeah," Frank says and starts up his slow strokes on Gerard again, his lubed up fingers ghosting over Gerard's entrance and barely pressing in the tip of his finger against the ring of muscle.

He waits until Gerard's body feels relaxed enough to really press his finger inside up to the knuckle. Gerard tenses up at first, but quickly subdues and relaxes again. Frank starts moving his finger inside Gerard, so slowly that after a while Gerard whines, sick of it, wanting more, and he rocks down into Frank's finger. Frank swears and adds another finger, keeping the movement of them inside Gerard in time with his strokes on Gerard's cock.

Gerard can feel a blush spreading through his chest, the hot sensation of it nothing compared to how Frank's making him feel. When Frank finally adds a third finger his name slips out of Gerard's lips in a whisper, a plea. Frank's hand leaves his cock and instead grips his hip, Frank's thumbs digging in so hard Gerard thinks he might get bruises. He wouldn't mind them, and Frank would probably _like_ them.

Frank's fingers leave Gerard the moment he starts rocking down onto them, almost desperate. Gerard doesn't know what he wants, but he knows he wants _more_ and he wants it _now_.

Cursing the whole time, Frank takes off his underwear and gives himself a couple of strokes before he rolls down the condom on himself. He squeezes a bit more of lube onto his hand and spreads it over his cock.

He positions himself in between Gerard's open legs, his hands covering Gerard's knees. The moment the tip of Frank's cock brushes up against Gerard, he moans and rocks down. Frank stops him with a hand on his hip, breathless.

"Fuck, _Gerard_. Okay." He steadies Gerard with the hand on his hip and uses the other one to line himself up, watching as the head of his cock pushes in.

Gerard throws his head to the side, breathing in and out slowly to relax. It’s kind of overwhelming in such a good way, but Frank’s not even the whole way in. Gerard bites down on his lip and opens his eyes after Frank hasn’t moved for a beat too long. Frank’s looking at him with dark, heated eyes, but he’s expecting Gerard’s confirmation to keep going. Gerard nods at him, and he can feel every inch of Frank as he slowly pushes in.

“Oh, God,” he lets out once Frank’s all the way in, his hands clutching the bed sheets by his sides. He’s squeezing his eyes shut without realizing, so he opens them and stares at the ceiling, breathing hard. It’s all too much, but it’s all so good.

Frank bends down, still buried deep inside Gerard, kisses Gerard’s neck with care and love, his soft lips caressing the skin and his tongue giving Gerard goosebumps. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gerard replies immediately, not wanting Frank to worry. “I just -”

Frank is nodding against Gerard’s neck before he can finish talking, his hair brushing Gerard’s skin, tickling him just a bit. “I get it. Whenever you’re ready.” Frank’s mouth moves upwards towards Gerard’s jaw, his teeth scraping up against it.

Frank’s thumbs start moving in soothing circles on Gerard’s hips and Gerard breathes in and out, taking it all in. Everything feels like it could turn into too much, but Frank is there and he’s so close and he’s taking such good care of Gerard. And Gerard’s burning up inside, the uncomfortable feeling from having Frank’ cock shoved up his ass rapidly fading away and leaving behind only the wanting for _more_.

He rocks down onto Frank’s cock experimentally. Frank’s thumbs stop moving on his hips and he stills completely. “I am,” Gerard says as he nods. He turns his head the other way, mumbling against Frank’s hair. “Ready.”

Frank can only nod before he starts moving slowly and carefully inside Gerard. It’s so good, because Gerard can feel every inch of Frank as he drags out and then slams in. Gerard’s hands move up Frank’s arms to his neck and he pulls Frank down for a sloppy kiss, Frank’s hips never stopping moving. Gerard can feel his toes curling up, the sensations building up a heat in the lower part of his stomach. It’s slow and barely there, but it makes him desperate for more. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this overwhelmed by the intensity of needing someone close, even closer than they already are, Frank buried inside Gerard.

“Frank,” Gerard says the name like a plea, his voice strained. “ _Please._ ”

He doesn’t exactly know what he’s asking for, but Gerard trusts Frank to know. And he’s right in doing so, because Frank just mumbles something against Gerard’s lips, and his hips speed up. Although they’re both growing more and more desperate by the second, the feeling of intimacy and closeness isn’t lost. It’s a different form of intimacy than the one they shared last night while watching that movie, but it’s just as good.

It’s feeling Frank’s skin sliding against his with every move, the sweat of their bodies making every slide easier; it’s Frank peppering kisses all over his neck and chest, leaving hickeys everywhere, making memories; it’s Frank holding onto Gerard’s hips like they’re drifting in the sea and he’s the only lifeboat in sight; it’s desperate, needy, but also full of sweet kisses and gentle caresses.

The contrast between Frank being so careful about everything, taking such good care of Gerard throughout everything and his hips frantically moving, his mouth biting and sucking, drives Gerard crazy. He feels both loved and wanted, like never before. Only Frank, he thinks.

Gerard tugs on Frank’s hair to pull him up from where he was sucking a hickey on his chest, pulls him close to his face and kisses him slow and sweet, but lifts up a foot from the bed to push at Frank’s lower back with it. He moans into the kiss, his hands tightening in Frank’s hair, and Frank mirrors him. The kiss turns sloppy as Frank gets more desperate, alongside Gerard, who keeps encouraging him with the foot on his lower back. It’s a mess of too much teeth, not enough tongue and more than enough saliva, but neither of them give a shit. Gerard can’t really concentrate on anything other than the feeling of Frank pushing in and out of him, filling him up so good.

Frank whines into the kiss. “Gerard. Can I -”

“Yes,” Gerard replies before Frank can even finish the question. He doesn’t care; he wants it, he wants everything.

Frank takes one of his hands off Gerard’s hip, instead grabbing at Gerard’s foot and bending his leg back until it almost touches Gerard’s chest and his heel hovers over Frank’s shoulder. He does the same with the other one, holding onto Gerard with both hands on his thighs, and starts moving his hips again.

“Ohhhh, fuck,” Gerard moans, throws his head back against the pillow. Frank’s starting out slow, his hips moving with care, dragging in and out at an almost tortuous pace, fucking deep and good into Gerard.

Frank’s breathless, but he’s smiling as he talks. “Better?”

“Fuck - yeah,” replies Gerard, holding onto the sheets with tight fists. It’s definitely better, deeper, but he can’t stop the wanting for something more, faster, desperate. For Frank to make him feel like he’s going to fall apart. “But. _Please_ ,” he begs, his voice whiny, his eyes screwed shut.

“What?” Frank asks, still moving his hips so damn slow. “Tell me what you want.” He plants a kiss on Gerard’s ankle next to his face, then keeps going down his leg as far as he can go, leaving wet kisses behind him, turning Gerard’s skin into goosebumps.

Gerard’s shakes his head, but somehow still manages to get the words out, his voice strained. “More. Faster.”

“You got it.” Frank smirks into the skin of Gerard’s ankle.

Frank’s hips speed up gradually until they’re both moaning in unison, high pitched and desperate. Gerard arches his back off the bed for a few seconds and Frank curses loudly.

“Frank, Frank, Frank,” Gerard chants, begging for something more, he’s _so_ close.

Frank responds by taking one of his hands off Gerard’s thigh and instead wrapping it around Gerard’s hard cock curving against his belly, his strokes messy but just what Gerard needs. Gerard lets out a dragged out moan, his hips bucking, first down onto Frank’s cock then up into his fist. He doesn’t even know what to do with himself, it’s all so overwhelming, but in such a good way. He never wants it to stop, but he can feel himself getting closer to coming by the second, the knot in his lower stomach growing tighter and tighter.

“I’m - I’m. _Frank_.” Gerard can’t even form the words, but he thinks Frank gets it because he flicks his wrist on the upstroke, rubbing his thumb against the head of Gerard’s cock and then Gerard’s coming in spurts all over his chest and belly, chanting Frank’s name like it’s the only word he knows.

Frank strokes him through it, curses as he feels Gerard coming and clenching around him, thrusts into him a couple more times, desperate and messy, and then follows suit. He arches forwards, burying his face into Gerard’s belly, not caring about the come spread all over it, trying to regain his breath back.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes out, then giggles, still riding the high of the orgasm.

“Holy fuck,” Gerard agrees, nodding, his arms spread out on the mattress, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He feels boneless, like his spine has melted somehow, and it’s fucking amazing.

They stay like that for a couple of seconds until Gerard runs a hand through Frank’s hair and then lifts up his face from his belly to see the come smeared on his cheek and chin. He laughs, but feels something hot spread through his lower stomach. Later.

One of the corners of Frank’s mouth curls up in a smirk. “Okay. Time for cleanup,” he says, but then seems to contemplate something, and his tongue pokes out of his mouth to lick at the come on his chin.

Gerard whines. “Oh, _please._ ”

Frank just giggles, then straightens up and slowly pulls out of Gerard. Gerard grimaces, sensitive with aftershocks, but it isn’t really bad kind of grimace. The sensations are kind of too much, but also curl something hot in his chest. Huh.

Frank takes off the condom and ties the end of it, takes it with him to the bathroom from where he emerges again with a wet towel. Gerard just watches him go, appreciating his ass and all those tattoos he’s going to have a closer look to soon. He smiles lazily when Frank hops onto the bed again and cleans up his belly and chest carefully with the towel. He’s still a little breathless, and his heart hasn’t quite realized the situation’s much more relaxed now, but that might just be from having Frank this close.

“You comfy?” Frank asks, looking from Gerard’s lazy smile to his eyes, a smile of his own forming on his lips; there’s a tinge of pride and smugness in his though, knowing he’s the one that basically turned Gerard into jelly. Happy jelly.

“Very,” Gerard replies, nodding. “Could be more comfortable, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank cocks one eyebrow. “How could that be done?”

Gerard just makes grabby hands at him in reply. Frank laughs, warm and happy, and bends down to rest his chin over Gerard’s sternum. Gerard reaches forward to peck at Frank’s lips once, then rests his head back in the pillow but runs a hand through Frank’s hair, petting it. Frank turns his head to the side, his ear right by Gerard’s heart where he can hear his heartbeat, and they stay like that for whoever knows how long. It’s so comfortable and intimate and it feels so right, like they were designed to be like this since they first met.

At some point, Gerard looks over to the bedside table and finds a pack of cigarettes and a lighter next to it. He nudges Frank’s head to get his attention and silently asks his permission to take one and smoke it. Frank makes a vague gesture with his hand that Gerard takes as a yes. He has to stretch and bend awkwardly, not wanting to make Frank move an inch, but he finally manages to take one cigarette out the pack and light it up. The first drag is always the sweetest so he steals that one, then offers the cigarette to Frank who takes a drag too, careful to not spill any ash onto Gerard’s chest. They finish the cigarette like that, taking one drag each, and then they fall into silence for another few minutes.

Frank’s humming something Gerard can’t recognize when he suddenly talks. “Hey. Can I ask you a question?”

Gerard smiles. “You just did.”

Frank rolls his eyes. “Okay, can I ask you _another_ question?”

Gerard starts giggling. “You just -”

Frank cuts him off by playfully smacking his chest. “Asshole. Just let me ask you something.”

Gerard tries to stop giggling and nods. “Sure, go ahead.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Frank says, his voice small, making soothing circles with his finger over Gerard’s chest. Gerard just hums in acknowledgement and thanks. Frank takes a deep breath. “Why hadn’t you ever - done that? Had sex?”

Gerard’s eyes slip closed. He knew this question was coming, he just didn’t have the time to prepare an answer. It’s not like he’d lie to Frank, but he would’ve liked to have thought this through before having to answer.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just - I had never been sexually attracted to anyone before. I had never wanted to do it.” His voice is calm, totally not trying to make a big deal out of this, but he’s anxious about Frank’s reaction on the inside, biting down on his lip.

“Oh.” Is all Frank says and Gerard starts talking again immediately.

“It’s not like I never had relationships. I’ve had those, I’ve liked people but like - romantically. I had never liked anyone sexually before you. We just held hands and sometimes kissed but - it wasn’t like this.” He’s gesturing with his hands to encompass all of them, the moments they’ve shared. He know he’s babbling, so he tries to shut himself up, biting the inside of his cheek.

“ _Oh_.” Frank repeats, his eyebrows rising so high, and Gerard thinks this is it, Frank thinks he’s weird and won’t want to see him again, he just ruined his chances at what could’ve possibly been the best relationship he ever had; but then Frank’s smirking. He turns his head so his chin is resting on Gerard’s chest, looking up at him. There’s a gleam in his eyes Gerard can’t quite comprehend, but he thinks he likes it. “Frank Iero, the only person Gerard Way’s ever been attracted to,” he enunciates, like a title. “I like it. Really makes you feel amazing.”

Gerard lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. “Well, you are, so,” he says, matter of factly, and shrugs, smiling.

“You are too. Pretty fucking amazing.” Frank turns his head back, his ear against Gerard’s chest. “So lucky,” he mumbles and Gerard’s not sure it was meant for him to hear, but he blushes anyway.

Frank goes back to humming, his tempo marked by Gerard’s heartbeat. Gerard goes back to petting Frank’s hair, his hand softly massaging his scalp. And in that moment, the whole Universe feels at balance, like everything’s right where it belongs. At least, _they_ are; with each other, where they belong.

*

Gerard pushes the door of Starbucks open, makes a beeline for the register. There’s quite a bit of people there but he can see his usual table is free with a quick look around. He’s not sure how he always manages to find it empty, but he’s pretty sure Frank has some sort of doing in it.

When it’s his turn, he smiles brightly at Brian, waves a hand at them. “Hey, Brian.”

“Hey, Gerard,” Brian says. “Same as always?” They ask, even though they’re already putting in the order and Frank is there by their side, grabbing an empty Venti disposable cup and scribbling on it.

“Yeah.” Gerard nods. Frank grins at him and it’s blindingly beautiful. Gerard blushes, tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, smiles back at him.

He pays and says bye to Brian with another wave, walks to the end of the counter to wait for his drink to be ready. He doesn’t have to wait long until Frank’s voice is heard throughout the whole shop, once again calling Gerard anything but his name. Gerard rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smile that curls his lips. It’s become one of their _things_ now.

“Jared! Jared!” Frank keeps chanting until Gerard’s in front of him, his hand reaching out for the drink. Frank clicks his tongue, shaking his head and drawing his arm, and therefore the drink, backwards and out of Gerard’s reach.

Gerard rolls his eyes again, but he’s still smiling. This is another one of their _things_. He leans forward, capturing Frank’s mouth in a quick peck, steals the drink from his hand. He’s blushing when he draws back, his cheeks tainted pink, but his smile is warm.

“See you later,” Gerard says with a quick wave of his hand, then turns around and walks towards his usual table, sitting down on the couch facing the counter so he can see Frank work as he too works.

He gets engrossed on his work right away, forgetting completely about the coffee on the table. He should be working on his actual work, the commissions he has to hand in in about a week and a half, but the Superheroes comic has gotten him focused and intent on it. It’s cheesy and cliche and both Frank and he wear the most ridiculous superhero suits and he loves it.

“Hey, is that me?”

Gerard yelps, clutching the sketchbook to his chest instinctively to hide it. Frank is looking over his shoulder, still trying to peek at it, a towel on his hand. He probably came to clean up Gerard’s table, which is ridiculous since nobody but him has used it, he’s sure, and it’s clean since he hasn’t even touched his coffee.

“What is it about?” Frank asks, casually resting on his elbows on the back of the couch Gerard’s sitting on, like he doesn’t have actual work he should be doing right now.

“Uh. Superheroes. You know, cliche stuff.” Gerard doesn’t know how to describe it in a way that won’t be terribly embarrassing, so he just gives the vaguest description he can think of.

“Am I in it?”

Gerard shakes his head very slowly. “No,” he says, dragging out the n a little bit, as calm as a rock.

Frank narrows his eyes, then smiles. “You’re the worst liar ever.”

Gerard groans, brings his sketchbook up to his face and buries his face in it. “I know,” he mumbles against the page.

“Gotta get back to work.” Frank places a kiss on Gerard’s temple. Then, close to Gerard’s ear, he whispers, “My ass looked amazing in that suit.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Gerard whines, his cheeks turning pink. Frank giggles.

“Don’t forget about that!” Frank says, pointing at the coffee cup on Gerard’s table as he walks away, swinging the towel around with his hand.

Gerard does forget about it, though, since he quickly gets lost again in the creative process that the Superheroes project takes out of him - and drawing Frank’s ass in tight spandex requires quite a lot of concentration, thank you very much. He emerges from his haze sometime later and remembers to take a sip out of his coffee, thanks to Frank. It isn’t cold yet, thank God, but he really should hurry to finish it up or he’s going to end up having to drink half of his coffee probably ice cold. He puts back the drink on the table but something catches his eyes. He furrows his eyebrows and turns the coffee cup around.

On the line where the name should be, which never contains Gerard’s actual name, is instead a little heart drawn in gold sharpie. Gerard’s taken aback. He knows they use normal, black sharpies to scribble on the cups, so Frank had to purposefully get a gold sharpie for this and then use it for his cup. Gerard feels something warm spread through his chest.

And, you know, it’s _still_ not his name that’s written on the line, but it’s something more. It’s a fucking promise.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [inscribere](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4749539) by [general_jinjur (jinjurly)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinjurly/pseuds/general_jinjur)




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